Chapter 6 Summerchild
six
Summerchild
Zydar
Narietta thought a bribe would be the best way to convince the girl to cooperate. Ridiculous. Mortals could be manipulated, yes, but this one—this Miralyte—had proven harder to shape than a mountain under wind. And yet, here I was.
I stood in front of the doors leading to the dining hall, hands clasped behind my back, staring at the massive, blackened wood, and wondering if this had been a mistake.
We had pulled out all the stops to impress her, dressing the room in lavish tapestries, setting up the largest, finest dinner table we had in our possession, and filling the air with the smells of the freshest, most delectable foods.
In truth, I had no reason to believe that all this effort would work.
Surely this mortal girl, a Vessel no less, would never fall for pretty distractions. She was far too stubborn and proud, even by human standards.
I sighed and walked through the doors, my black boots echoing across the marble floor, announcing my arrival. A handful of court members seated at the long table turned their heads in unison, their expressions tight with disapproval.
They did not approve of the unexpected addition to tonight's festivities, and many had protested adamantly, complaining loudly to everyone who would listen.
I took my place at the head of the table, pointedly ignoring them.
Narietta sat at the far end, her usual place next to Gryven. She was fiddling with her jewelry while her eyes danced around the room.
My eyes, however, were settled at the empty seat beside me. Waiting for the arrival of the girl.
Narietta caught my gaze, and her eyes crinkled with amusement. "I'm sure she'll arrive soon."
I couldn't stop myself from laughing as I shook my head. "Whatever game you are playing, little sister, I do not have the time or the patience for it. Not while the Red Skies grow darker by the day."
Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but after a moment she sighed. "I just wanted to ask her, that is all."
"So you've said." I replied.
We lapsed into silence again, but it was not long before I heard the doors open and a wave of murmuring arose from the court.
Karys had arrived, and I looked up at her from beneath lowered brows, waiting to see whether my curiosity would be answered.
And sure enough, Karys stepped to the side and out walked the human girl.
She was wearing the white dress I'd ordered Karys to have her wear, and its skirts flowed around her like liquid starlight. Her hair was braided, not unlike the style common in my realm, and her eyes gleamed like molten gold.
Everyone was silent. Then Narietta clasped her hands and let out a small squeal of excitement. She bounded from her place at the end of the table and rushed to the girl's side.
"Mira."
She took the girl's arm and led her to the chair that had remained empty. She sat, her expression wary, her eyes darting between the faces of those seated around her.
"Welcome, welcome," Narietta was practically bouncing with glee. "I am so glad you decided to join us."
"I wasn't given much choice," the girl replied flatly. Her eyes locked on mine, and I offered her a cold, assessing stare.
"Apologies, Mira," Narietta said, although she did not seem very contrite. "I know it's a bit much. I forget that not everyone enjoys theatrics.”
"My name is Miralyte," the girl corrected, allowing herself to be led to the empty chair beside mine. Her gaze swept the assembled court with cool assessment before settling on me.
Miralyte inclined her head towards me, acknowledging my presence. "Would it be a good time to ask why the court desires the joy of my presence tonight?" Miralyte's golden eyes bored into mine. Direct. I appreciated that, even if her tone bordered on insolence.
"That depends entirely on you."
"Me? What could I possibly have to offer you, oh great Warlord?"
My amusement faded a bit. I was not going to stand to be mocked, least of all by a mere mortal. But before I could say anything, my sister giggled and clapped her hands.
"I simply adore her wit," she exclaimed, glancing between the two of us. "It's a breath of fresh air."
I internally groaned. Of course Narie refused to see that the girl was goading me. Narie wouldn't know real humor if it slapped her in her face. She only saw what she wanted to see, which was something glamorous and exotic. A hero to fill the stories. A shameful part of me secretly liked it.
"Well?" She asked, her golden eyes boring into mine.
I clenched my jaw and leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. Before I could answer, my sister spoke. "We have a task for you."
Both the girl and I turned towards her, and I was not surprised when the girl asked, "What sort of task?"
"Tell me, Miralyte," my sister began, her voice taking on a more serious tone, "what do you know of magical plagues?"
"Nothing. "
"There is a curse afflicting our court," Narietta continued, her usual brightness dimming.
"We call it the Shadow Rot. It is... consuming our people.
" A gasp rippled through the court at her revelation and some of them openly gaped in shock.
I cringed and shot a look at Narietta. To share our greatest weakness so openly with a human no less…
Narietta, sensing my thoughts, shot me a look and shook her head. Fine. She had a plan.
The girl's expression shifted slightly—not to sympathy, but to wariness. "What does that have to do with me?"
"The rot is magical in nature," Gryven interjected from across the table, his scarred face grave. "It turns our own power against us, eating through flesh and bone until nothing remains but husks."
"Our healers are helpless against it," Narietta added softly. "And it affects mortals even more severely. They typically die within days of exposure."
I watched Miralyte's face carefully. Fear flickered in her eyes—good. She was beginning to understand the stakes.
"But you," Narietta leaned forward, hope bright in her violet eyes, "you appear to be... different."
"Different how?"
This was the moment I had been waiting for. I rose from my seat and moved to stand beside her chair. She tensed as I approached, but didn't flee.
Slowly, deliberately, I lifted the agralt chain from around my neck.
"This pendant would kill any mortal who touched it," I said, dangling the divine metal before her eyes. "Yet yesterday, you handled it without consequence."
Her jaw tightened. "Your point?"
"The point, little dove, is that your body doesn't react to fae magic the way it should. At all."
I could see the wheels turning in her mind, connecting dots she didn't want to acknowledge.
"We believe," Narietta said gently, "that studying this resistance might help us find a cure. You could save countless lives—both fae and mortal."
Silence stretched across the table like a drawn blade. Then Miralyte laughed—a harsh, bitter sound.
"Let me guess," the girl interjected, her voice thick with sarcasm. "I'm immune to your magical plague and somehow that makes me useful to you."
"Exactly," Gryven confirmed with a nod.
The girl scoffed. "Fantastic."
"We wish to study you. Maybe find a cure for the disease." Narietta beamed. She was obviously proud of the idea, but the way she said it I found it unsettling. Evidently Miralyte felt the same because she jerked back in shock, “You mean, experiment on me? Take me apart?”
"We want to study your resistance," I corrected. "Under controlled conditions, with proper safeguards—"
"Safeguards." Her voice dripped with contempt.
"From the same creatures who murder mortals for sport?
Who steal children from their families? Who destroyed everything I ever loved?
" Outraged gasps and angry murmurs from the court made me glare at her in anger.
She was fantastic at making new enemies.
Despite our desperate need to find a cure, she might not survive the night.
I felt my jaw clench, and saw Gryven's face darken with anger.
"You insult us." Gryven growled.
Miralyte rose from her chair, her composure cracking to reveal the fury beneath. "I've seen what your kind does. I've buried the bodies you leave behind."
"Don't you think that's a bit excessive?" Gryven snapped, his expression unreadable.
"No," she replied bluntly. "I have seen the fear and pain the fae bring wherever they go. There is no reason for me to help you. No reason to do anything except hurt you the same way you have hurt others."
"Let's calm down and talk about this rationally." Narietta interjected, her hands fluttering nervously in the air between them. “I never meant to imply that we would-
"There is nothing to discuss," Miralyte stated calmly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I will not help you."
A heavy silence fell over the table, and then Gryven sighed heavily. "We could always try the torture room."
I stifled a chuckle and folded my arms across my chest, letting the weight of the suggestion hang a beat longer than necessary. Leave it to Gryven to default to barbarism before dessert was even served.
"Excuse me?" Miralyte choked on the words.
"Gryven!" Narietta gasped, aghast.
"Come on, Narie, why even bother with this attempt at politeness if she's not going to cooperate?"
The girl was watching us with horror and disgust. "Of course the first offer I get is torture. How stupid of me to believe otherwise. "
"That is not our intention, Miralyte. Please understand, we just need your help." Narietta stammered, but I could see the doubt creeping into her eyes.
"I don't give a damn what you want," the girl snarled, her voice filled with fury. "I will never aid you or your accursed court."
Narietta stared at her, mouth agape, before lifting her chin high and nodding. "If I wasn't so desperate, I'd almost admire your choice. " She looked down at the table, her face flushing. "My mate, Silvyr, caught the rot a few days ago."
"Narie. " I gave her a sympathetic look. She wasn't supposed to share that information.
"She is entitled to know the truth!" My sister yelled, and I could hear the pain in her voice, but it was gone when she added, "Everything."
Her eyes were filled with tears, and her hands were clenched in front of her. Narietta reached out to grasp the girl's hands. "You can't imagine what it's like watching someone you care for suffer."
Miralyte looked at Narie with a gaze that could shatter glass. "I assure you, you don't want to know what I've had to endure at the hands of your kind."
Narietta flinched and retreated into her chair. Her cheeks were wet, her eyes clouded with grief. Gryven was standing now, his face contorted into a look of utter disapproval, but he would not override Narie’s wishes and force Miralyte to obey.
The girl merely smiled serenely at Gryven, taunting him.
"She will not be forced," Narietta announced, and every head turned to her. "It must be her decision."
"Very well." Gryven inclined his head in acceptance, although his expression suggested he disagreed.
"If you change your mind," Narietta began, moving her chair closer to the girl. "Please, tell us. There's no reason we cannot come to some sort of compromise."
The mortal was silent for a moment, as if contemplating whether to reply. When she spoke again, there was a trace of melancholy in her voice. "I have no reason to help you. None."
Narietta looked at the girl with desperation and shook her head. "Sometimes having a reason that compels one into action is worse than a choice that has been made without obligation."
With that, she rose gracefully from her seat, her wings moving gracefully with the movement, and glided towards the door. When she reached the threshold, she turned once more to Mira and smiled, her eyes clouded with sadness.
She paused at the threshold, turning back with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Consider it carefully, Summerchild."
Summerchild? What an odd choice.
Miralyte went completely still at the sound of the term, and she slowly lifted her head.
It was the first time I had ever seen her show such vulnerability. Mortals were often afraid of us, but this seemed more than mere fear. It was an old hurt, buried deep beneath layers of anger and hatred, still so raw and festering.
"How do you—" she began, voice cracking. "Who told you that name?"
Narietta didn’t answer.
Miralyte stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping hard against stone. She moved not with rage but with intent—fast, purposeful, like a shadow breaking formation.
She crossed the table in a blink. Plates crashed to the ground. Wine spilled like blood across the linen.
I leaned back in my chair, genuinely entertained.
She nearly reached Narietta before two of my guards materialized from the shadows, catching her arms and hauling her back. She thrashed against their grip like a wildcat, all pretense of composure shattered.
"Answer me! How do you know that name?" she snarled, struggling to break free. "How dare you—"
"Careful, dear one," Narietta said, her voice honey-sweet and utterly calm despite having nearly been attacked.
She tilted her head, studying Miralyte's fury with the detached interest of a scholar examining a particularly fascinating specimen.
"Strong emotions often muddle the mind and lead to poor decisions. "
"Let me go. Now." Each word was a rasping growl.
Narietta smoothed her skirts and stepped closer, just out of reach. Her smile was gentle, almost maternal, and somehow far more unsettling than any threat could have been.
"Sleep well tonight, Mira," she murmured, her voice carrying easily across the silent hall. "And do have your answer ready after breakfast tomorrow. "
I gestured for the guards to release the girl. She stumbled back, chest heaving, her careful composure in ruins. For a moment, she looked lost—young and vulnerable and utterly bewildered.
Her eyes met mine, wide and defiant and brimming with hatred. Then she fled from the room as if the hounds of the Underworld were at her heels.
Perhaps they were.